


A Dream Within A Dream

by Emma_Swan



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 17:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5172332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emma_Swan/pseuds/Emma_Swan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina will do whatever it takes to save Emma from the darkness. </p><p>Set in the current timeline and continues through 5b.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Dream Within A Dream

A Dream Within a Dream:

 

Regina's hand feels heavy as she places it on the door of the toolshed and peers inside at the colorful dreamcatchers. There are so many -- far more than she expected, considering Emma only cursed a few dozen people. She swallows thickly, but she moves at a fast pace, slipping inside to seek out the dreamcatcher that has caught her eye. 

This one is larger and oblong, with black and white feathers and bright abalone shells. She can sense the magic radiating from it, and clutches the dreamcatcher close to her chest for safekeeping. 

"Find what you were looking for?" Emma asks, sounding unaffected and even bored by Regina's attempt at breaking and entering. "I expected you to come sooner. I was sure you’d bring company..." 

"I thought you'd have hidden them all away by now," Regina breathes out by way of explanation, but she's withholding the real reason behind her reluctance to venture out in search of the dreamcatchers. "I figured out why you cast the curse. There was something that happened that you wanted undone. It was easiest to wipe everyone's memories so you would never have to think of it again…"

"I think about it every day," Emma cuttingly replies. "You aren't very good at guessing games, Regina." 

Emma rips the dreamcatcher out of her hands and hangs it up again. 

Regina watches her memories dangle in front of her, but she knows better than to reach for them now. Emma stands behind her, and slides strong hands onto her shoulders. She hears the zip open on her dress and feels her skin prickle in the cool air. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Regina practically yelps, and spins around.

Emma shrugs as if her actions are casual, even though they have never so much as wrapped their arms around each other, not even during the good moments in the past when they were on the same side. "You like making others feel naked and exposed," she hisses softly. "I just wanted to see how you'd react if I returned the favor. You could have kept my secret. Why did you share those memories with the whole damn town?”

"I didn't," Regina protests, but she knows word has traveled fast of Emma's betrayal and she can't quite meet Emma's eyes. She stares down and pulls at her own hands instead. "Look, I'm not going to apologize to you. Take responsibility for your own actions."

Emma smirks knowingly and with barely restrained anger that makes the muscles in her jaw twitch. "Is that really fair?" she muses, pitching her voice low. "How many times did I take responsibility for your actions, and yet you never seem to help me. It's always one-sided with you, Regina. You're selfish. You don't give a damn about anyone but yourself! Do you know the moment I succumbed to the darkness was when you asked me to use magic to save Robin?" 

Emma snaps her mouth closed at the end of her rant. Regina recognizes it for what it is - a blatant sign that Emma thinks she's said too much. 

"There was no other way!" Regina argues, and her harsh breathing and watery eyes are the prelude to tears she never wanted Emma to see. "I didn't think the choice was you or him!" 

"It is!" Emma spits dramatically, with gritted teeth and eyes that flash disdainfully. "It was," she repeats, but she's corrected herself too late and she looks away from Regina, shoulders heaving with too much emotion to contain. 

"I'm sorry," Regina whimpers, and she realizes she's apologizing in spite of herself -- she's failed Emma, and if anyone is responsible for this mess, it's her. "You should never have sacrificed yourself for me! Why did you ever think I would be able to save you? I've never been able to save anyone I care about. Not Daniel, not Robin." She becomes quiet, and though it's in the softest whisper, she admits, "and not you." 

Emma shoots her a dirty look, and lifts her head superiorly, as if Regina's hard won apology means nothing to her. "Daniel was an escape from Cora and the life you didn't want. Robin is a convenient solution to an old problem. You'd rather be with him than be alone. And I'm just a sucker who believed in you -- who genuinely cared about you enough to put myself in harm's way. But the thing is, you never really cared about any of us, Regina. You put your own wants and needs and vendettas above all else. Have you ever even stopped to consider that maybe I don't want to be saved? That's what you want." 

Regina all but sinks into the chair where Emma has been sitting to make the dreamcatchers. She's overwhelmed by Emma's assessment, but she still finds the strength to shake her head in denial. "No," she hoarsely insists. 

"Trust me, I did you a favor by taking away your memories," Emma hisses mercilessly. "Sometimes I wish I could erase my own, but now that I'm enlightened, there's no going back." 

Emma runs her fingers along the rim of the dreamcatcher that holds the past several weeks of Regina's life.

Regina risks watching, and notes all of the tenderness in Emma's touch - reserved only for the memory of her. 

"Leave now," Emma states simply, and in a cloud of grey smoke, Regina finds herself back in the safety of her own living room.

Regina sits hunched on the couch, coughing and sniffling without dignity over the highly charged emotional exchange that's left her feeling sick and perplexed by an underlying sense of loss. She blinks the tears out of her vision and retreats up to her bedroom before Henry sees her. Robin has gone back to his new apartment in the building on Main Street that the merry men renovated in his absence, and for once she's grateful that he's gone.

Regina wants nothing more than to confront Emma again, but she has no ammunition left. If she can't remember what happened between her and Emma, how can she ever hope to fix it before everything escalates further? 

She curls up in bed to think, but instead slips into a nightmare. There’s nothing but emptiness, a void behind her eyes until she feels a presence in the darkness.  
Soft whispers reach her ears, and then Emma’s perching over her, holding a dreamcatcher above her face. 

In a cold sweat, Regina awakens to the discovery that Emma is indeed in her bedroom, with a new dreamcatcher - this one is made of dark brown twine and robin's feathers. 

Broodingly, Emma drops the dreamcatcher on the mattress and strokes Regina’s cheek. They stare intently at each other, but Regina feels too lethargic to sit upright – all she can do is lift her hand and grip Emma loosely by the wrist.

“What do you want,” she asks, even though there’s no point: Emma is already taking what she wants, and Regina can scarcely talk or stay alert. Her head falls back, and the sensation that overcomes her is strikingly similar to what she experienced when she accidentally loosened the rail on her balcony and plummeted from her bedroom window as a young queen. 

This time she feels the full force of the impact, and the bones in her chest shatter around her heart and lungs, and there’s no air to breathe. She gasps painfully, over and over, and then suddenly she’s whole again, and dressed in the white lacy gown she wore in her innocent years before the darkness took hold. 

The banquet table is laden with every type of meat, fruit and vegetable, but she’s alone and has no appetite. 

Emma stands in the shadows, and approaches when she looks up. 

Regina knows who Emma is, but she’s also forgotten so much – everything is hazy, and while she can’t quite account for the past or future, she’s aware of what her life is like at this moment, and her perpetual loneliness. 

“Emma?” Regina whispers, and then she’s leaping up from the table and standing on tiptoe to throw her arms around Emma’s neck. 

Emma smiles radiantly, and genuine warmth fills her eyes as she gathers Regina into her arms. 

“It’s me,” Emma confirms, and holds Regina close, nuzzling into the young queen’s dark hair. “Did you miss me?” 

It’s all pretend, Regina realizes with devastating clarity – this is a dream, and she has no control over it. She tries to wake herself up, but there’s no way to escape the web of Emma’s magic, and a part of her wants to stay in Emma’s odd fantasy. 

Regina nods—she’s missed having pleasant interactions with Emma, but she’s startled when the taller woman bends to kiss her.

“Miss Swan,” she rumbles, and abruptly her hair is shorter on one side, and she spots her pajama pants sticking out from underneath her gown. “Emma,” she repeats, correcting herself. “Why are we here?”

Emma bristles and her eyes fly wide in anger, but then her rage dims as she considers, “Well it’s not as if you’ll remember this anyway.” 

After a long pause and a jaunt around the banquet hall, Emma admits, “I like it here. You’re different in this place.”

“You see,” Emma husks, “You had it all wrong. You didn’t choose darkness at this point in your life because you were afraid to be happy, Regina. You chose darkness because I am the Darkness.”

Emma offers up her hand, and Regina reluctantly takes it.

“This was always my fate,” Emma says, and Regina can’t do much more than rest her head on Emma’s shoulder in confusion. “You were bound to me before I even existed.” 

“Mom?” Henry calls to her, and then he’s screeching, “mom!” 

Someone is shaking her violently, but she’s still with Emma in a far-off dream. 

“Regina!” Snow shouts, and a cold splash of water to the face jerks Regina awake. 

Though Snow’s the one clutching the empty glass, Regina glares at Henry and David first, then focuses her ire at Snow. “Was that really necessary?” she grumbles, but it hurts to sit up and her temples are pounding; she imagines she must have been unresponsive in the throes of her nightmare. “Where is Emma?” she asks suddenly. 

“Emma’s gone,” David frowns, and all at once Snow begins sobbing. Henry cries, though he draws his shoulders in tight and tries to put on a brave face. “She… she’s been gone for weeks, Regina.” 

“I just saw her last night,” Regina snaps impatiently, but David’s shaking his head and Snow is pulling a resistant Henry into a hug. They’re all staring at her as if she’s lost her mind, and Regina tries to get up, but her body refuses all requests. There’s thick bandaging around her middle, holding her ribs together. 

“She’s gone?” Regina asks uncertainly, and David’s still gawking at her in disbelief, as if he’s thinking about repeating himself. 

“The lake,” Snow sniffs, but she’s too overcome by grief, and her face crumples like a used tissue. 

“She drowned,” Henry states quickly, dissatisfied with his grandparents’ vague explanations. “Hook’s gone, too. He tried to kill you with Excalibur, so she dragged him down into the water. She didn’t come back.” 

“Hook tried to kill me?” Regina struggles to push the blankets away from her stomach, and seeks a glimpse of the bandages that stretch over an aching wound. 

“He blamed you for what happened to Emma,” Henry earnestly discloses, but he’s fidgeting where he stands, as if there’s more to the story that he’d rather keep from her. 

Regina recoils as she tries to imagine facing off with Hook, who would have been unstoppable with the powers of the reunited blades. “I have to go find Emma,” she mutters, but Snow is quick to push her down against the pillows. 

“We know where Emma is,” Snow wearily asserts, and David takes his wife’s silent cue to lead Henry from the room. “She’s in your mausoleum.” 

Snow sinks down on the edge of the bed and pats Regina’s knee. It’s comfort that Regina neither wants nor deserves. She forces herself out of bed in spite of the pain, and she’s gone in a puff of purple magic before Snow can blink.

Her destination’s undecided until she comes to the water’s edge. The lake ripples and recedes as she collapses in the shallows. She knows Henry needs her, but she wouldn’t leave him behind without the absolute conviction she’ll be able to return. “I choose the Darkness!” she yells with a raving mad laugh. “Come! Take me! Finish what you started.”

The landscape doesn’t change – not even a bit, but grey clouds blow overhead. She’s flat on her back when she hears sirens in the distance and the loud clash of black thunderheads. 

The darkness engulfs her completely, snuffing out all of the light, and then she’s grinning widely in exhilaration. She can hear a shriek from the tree line, and feel blood seeping through the stitches on her stomach. Red water pools around her until her teeth chatter from the cold, but warmth surrounds her when she gives up the fight to keep her head off the ground. 

“You have to get up,” comes Emma’s voice, solemn and demanding. She’s the same old Emma, in her red leather jacket and the tattered hat she’d worn the last two winters. “What are you doing? Get up.” 

Regina hurries to oblige, encumbered by the pain in her midsection. Raindrops splatter against her cheeks, and the cold contrasts with the hot tears that are streaming over her face. “What am I doing?” she shouts. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Emma grabs her, and light reflects off her fingertips as she uses magic. The roaring storm is suddenly far away, and Regina finds herself in the dry quiet of her mausoleum. 

Emma walks right by a sepulcher with her own name on it and descends the stone steps into Regina’s hideout. 

Regina has no choice but to follow, although she’s fixated on the slab of stone with the heavy lid, and the inscription in Emma’s memory that’s scrawled out on the top. She hesitates before going down the stairs and into the room of mirrors. 

“You’re going to give me back my life,” Emma explains hastily. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re not dead, Regina – you’re on the brink of it. I’ve been waiting on the shores of the lake for weeks. My parents want me laid to rest, but it’s not my time and I knew you’d come for me. My body’s being preserved by the spell you put on Daniel’s coffin, so you can still fix this. I don’t know how, but you have to fix this—” Her nostrils flare and she breathes calmly, with unwavering faith that Regina will understand what to do, but Regina’s at a loss. 

She’s bleeding out somewhere in the forest, but she’s also very much rooted in this spot, standing across from Emma and thinking frantically of what to do. Her knees give out under her as magic circulates through her veins, emotion coursing through her and overruling whatever thoughts come to mind. 

“Emma,” she groans, although she’s not sure if Emma’s with her, or if it’s Snow kneeling over her and sympathetically brushing the hair from her eyes. She’s in two places at once, and the sky spins like a pinwheel in a high wind, full of metallic color and speed. 

The ground shakes along with her, and she’s aware that she’s causing the tremors, as if all the land she once created has realized it’s a part of her through her curse. She’s the originator and the destroyer--the one who forms life out of nothingness and who ends life on a whim. 

The clock tower comes crashing down, but she can hear the bell tolling erratically, in homage to time—time that is meaningless now, when the beginning and end are the same, when life and death are the same. 

“Emma,” she speaks throatily, and feels whole. Her eyes close to the sound of panicked voices and mayhem.

She’s lying on a soft surface, and when she blinks back to consciousness, she’s wrapped in a heavy, white blanket and burning with fever. Emma crouches next to her bed and holds her hand. 

The destruction in Storybrooke must be widespread, because she recognizes in a flash that they’re crowded into town hall, and there are enough cots in the auditorium for half the town. 

David and Snow hover nearby with Henry, Doc, and Archie, and plenty of rubberneckers glance in their direction. It dawns on Regina that they’re all staring at her, and she forces herself upright because she won’t have anyone looking at her in a moment of weakness. 

Emma immediately tries to stop her, while the group gathering around her bed also leap in, and Snow cries, “no!” 

“I’m fine,” Regina growls threateningly, but she puts her back against the wall and breathes deeply, aware of the tightness in her chest and the palpating heat from her injury. That Hook ran her through with Excalibur seems to be a certainty, and tiny slivers of memory come back to her.  
Hook, with his misguided chivalry, chasing after his Emma into the forest – his defeated, world-weary Emma who gave up all hope. 

Regina recalls finding Emma by the lake, and pleading with her only friend to trust her--that life can get better. “I forgive you, Emma, without even knowing what you’ve done.”

“How can you forgive me?” Emma cried with a wobbling chin. 

“Because I love you,” Regina explained with sincerity; she stretched out her hand with her palm upward, waiting for Emma to take it. “Love means forgiveness, and standing by someone, even if she’s made mistakes in the past. Love means understanding, and you and I have always understood one another. You taught me. You taught me how to love. Give me your hand, Emma.”

Emma shook her head weakly, but she seemed on the verge of caving when Hook stepped in front of Regina and sheathed his sword in her stomach. “You did this to her,” he spat venomously. “This is your fault, and the only way to atone is for you to die. If it weren’t for you, she’d have never been an orphan… she would never have been raised by an ice queen, or tossed between worlds, or forced to live a life that was a lie. She would never have become the Dark One.”

Emma’s staring right at her now, and Regina snaps to attention, feeling suddenly claustrophobic from the crowd that gathers around her. She’s always suffered in private, and she can’t handle the presence of these witnesses, so she decides that she needs to stand. “Would you kindly move?” she asks Snow with a cranky scrunch of her nose, and gets to her feet effortlessly—or at least she makes it look effortless. She’s endured torture in the past and simply shook it off, because the town’s impending doom superseded her need for bed rest. The same applies in this situation, if the state of town hall is any indicator. She starts for the door to get some fresh air, but both Emma and Henry bounce after her and block her exit.

“You can’t go out there,” Henry squeaks in his pre-adolescent, changing voice. “It’s dangerous, mom. The whole town is different.”

“I wasn’t the only one you brought back,” Emma breathes, and peers through one of the few glass windows that aren’t boarded shut. “We’ll go out exploring in the morning, if you’re really feeling better. We’ve been sending out teams to find survivors.” 

Regina shrinks back from the door, because there are unsettling noises on the other side. 

“You should try to get some more sleep,” Henry advises, and then slinks off to check on Violet, though he remains watchful over his two moms.  
Regina gazes at the door in worry, and she wonders if Emma will walk away too, but instinctively knows that won’t be the case. “Why don’t we talk in the privacy of my office?” she asks. 

Emma simply nods, and wraps an arm around Regina to help her up the stairs. It’s not the smartest idea, given that all of the medical equipment is downstairs, but neither of them wants an audience for whatever is about to be said. 

Her office appears untouched when she flips on the light switch and lingers for a moment in the doorway, but when she goes to sit on the couch, she sees a collection of empty coffee mugs and evidence that Snow has been using the room for meetings. 

Regina sinks into her sofa gratefully, but she’s hurting and winces until Emma’s near enough to see. 

Emma shuffles across the carpet and paces back and forth. They begin speaking abruptly at the same time: “Regina—can we—” 

“Emma—l—”

They need to stop and start over, but they don’t – they just stare grievously at each other until Regina sighs silently. 

“Turns out you were wrong,” Emma says, with her hand on the back of her hip. “You saved me after all.”

Regina sucks her bottom lip in distress and holds her aching side. “You’re alive, yes -- but still in danger, and now whole town is in need of rescuing. I’m not you. I’m no savior.”

“I didn’t need a savior,” Emma cuts in, and finally takes a seat in the chair across from Regina. “I just needed you to be who you’ve always been.” She shrugs, and waves her hand as she explains her reasoning. “As for the state of the town… well, everything we do in life has good and bad outcomes. All we can do is proceed with good intentions.”

Regina barely suppresses a laugh, and shakes her head. “You know what they say. The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Emma touches her knee, and Regina gaps and tenses on reflex, fixated on the fingertips that squeeze gently before releasing. 

Even after their brush with death, Regina thinks they won’t acknowledge this energy between them.  
Emma is backing off, pulling her hand away and eyeing the floor in embarrassment. 

“Come here,” Regina whispers, and places a hand over the spot next to her. 

Emma cautiously fills it, and Regina just as cautiously pulls the aloof woman into her arms. Emma leans into her, and Regina’s rigidity melts away. 

Peacefully, they hold onto each other, and they both could sleep in their comfortable entanglement, but they don’t –

Emma tips her chin up, and Regina’s lashes flutter weightily as she’s mesmerized by the unwavering intention in Emma’s eyes.

Her lips part on instinct, and she inhales the shaky breath that Emma exhales. Their mouths meet in yearning and fulfillment, but these are undemanding kisses – lasting and sensual. 

The unrushed give and take leaves Regina flushed but satisfied, until the door to her office swings open and startles Emma. 

Emma jumps away from the couch, and even gulps in dread as she notices David. 

“What’s up?” Emma asks, sounding all high-pitched and strained. 

David’s too stunned to speak, and his long silence is enough to confirm that he’s seen an eyeful. 

Regina refuses to look at either of the Charmings, but Snow’s ill-timed entry causes her to flinch and react. “We were discussing plans to venture out first thing in the morning,” she lies.

The smoldering glare she reserves for David dares him to contradict her. 

“You shouldn’t be going anywhere in your condition,” Snow protests, and the fact that Doc comes trailing into the room is proof enough that for once it’s going to be hard to convince everyone that she’s not too fragile to help. “Emma and David can handle it for now.”

“Yeah, you can stay with the others who are injured and help by looking after the children,” David gruffly suggests. “Robin is among the injured, in case you were wondering. He was having trouble sleeping with all of the commotion in the main room, so we moved him to a private office downstairs.” 

“What happened?” Regina asks, but Snow’s quick to intervene and calm her rising panic. 

“Nothing life-threatening,” Snow assures her. “Just a broken leg, but Robin’s in good spirits. Henry loaned him a bunch of old comics.”

Emma glumly slumps back onto the couch at the discussion of Robin, and David frowns disapprovingly. 

“Regina,” Doc quietly interrupts. “I must ask you to return to bed, and this time please do take the elevator. The stairs can be hazardous!”

“I suppose that’s the case, if you’re a short legged, near-sighted little man,” Regina quips irritably, but she softens and squints at the dwarf in apology. 

“I’m sorry,” she huffs. “The fever must be talking. I’ll be going now…” To placate everyone, she rises from her seat and heads for the elevator. 

She’s underneath the blankets and settled by the time Emma plops down on the next cot. 

Dr. Whale arrives at her bedside with an IV pole and bags of fluid, which he connects to the lead in her wrist that she failed to notice earlier, tucked away below her sleeve. "You have an infection," he curtly informs her. "Your wound has not been responsive to my attentions." 

Regina considers making a joke about Whale and his unwanted attentions, but all she does is sulk in silence. She moves around to get comfortable but she can’t sleep with the cold fluid in her veins and the knowledge that Emma’s eyes are still on her. 

“Emma,” she says, licking her lower lip. “Robin and I aren’t exactly together anymore. It’s complicated, but he’s about to become a father again and he’s decided he should focus on that for now.”

She leaves out any mention of their disagreements over Zelena and the baby. 

Robin prefers Zelena to have contact with the child, even after all Zelena has done. 

It’s not that he thinks Regina would make a poor substitute parent; in fact he expects Regina to fill the role of mother, but also accept Zelena’s role in the baby’s life as the biological mother. 

He’s basing his thoughts on what he’s experienced with Roland, who is young and confused by Marian’s sudden reappearance and death. He’s not thinking of himself, or how the child was conceived—but only of the child’s need to have a mother. As horrible as Zelena might be, he doesn’t doubt her ability to love their daughter. And after all Regina has put Robin through by association, she can’t seem to deny or disrespect his wishes. She’s played co-parent with Emma for long enough; she’s familiar with what it entails and could surely make it work, but she doesn’t want that same relationship with Zelena. 

She’s determined to be happy, but Robin has never been crucial to that happiness—he’s only shown her that it is possible for someone to love her, and from that possibility arises all other possibilities. 

Emma rolls over to look at the ceiling, and fidgets indecisively before huffing out, “It’s none of my business anyway.”

Regina stares darkly at Emma. She’s never been more frustrated by Emma’s behavior, and given the history they’ve shared, that’s saying something. “I seem to recall that you kissed me, Miss Swan,” she practically growls in accusation. 

Emma pushes her pillow into a shape that fits perfectly under her cheek, and peers over at Regina. “So what?” she asks. “You kissed back. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” 

It’s such a childish argument, but Regina’s in no state to care. “Fine,” she snaps. “It meant nothing. Are you satisfied?”

Emma packs a forceful punch for her pillow and flips so she’s facing the opposite direction. 

Regina holds in all of her angry words and observations, because she recognizes the pain in the subtle rise and fall of Emma’s shoulders. 

There’s so much between them that they must discuss, but now is not the time. 

The kiss was a fleeting moment standing in the middle of the eye of a storm. The high winds are picking up again. In the morning, they will have to deal with the wreckage in Storybrooke, and whether Regina likes it or not, the loss of Hook. 

Then, against all odds, Emma mutters loud enough to be heard: “it meant something.” 

It’s not a promise, but it’s as much reassurance as Regina needs to have hope. 

It’s enough to make the tears catch in her eyes, and to curl her lips upward into a tiny, trusting smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for my writing partner, who has been feeling a bit down about the current season. With any luck, it'll inspire her to write again and we'll have updates on our other fics soon.


End file.
